Page 53 of Espíritu

Once a safe distance from the classroom and other people, Julian leaned against the cold tile wall, his heart pounding. He fumbled for his phone. The scuffed clear case still held a torn piece of the first note Yadriel had ever written him—a crooked heart and his name signed in careful letters. Julian had never taken it out. He shot a quick text to Yadriel:

yads, come make out with me in the bathroom!

The reply came almost instantly:

Gross.

me or the bathroom?

The bathroom. Sometimes you.

Julian chuckled.

ok not the bathroom. janitor’s closet? pleeeeease?

He knew for a fact that the lock to the janitor’s closet in Hall C didn’t work because he used to hide out there freshman year when he wanted to ditch class but was too scared to sneak off campus.

A long pause.

Fine. Five minutes.

Julian exhaled, already feeling a bit steadier. If anyone could calm him, it was Yadriel.

He leaned against the wall near the janitor’s closet, his gaze darting down the empty hall. The buzz of the overhead lights was punctuated by the occasional echo of a door closing.

Then he felt it again—that prickling sensation, as if unseen eyes were boring into the back of his skull. Light flickered beneath the closet door, not the harsh white of fluorescents but a watery blue-green glow, like sunlight filtering through deep water.

His stomach clenched. The whispers returned, faint but insistent, threading through the air like the fizz of a shaken soda can just before it blows. Julian’s hand hovered over the doorknob. The metal felt icy beneath his fingertips. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

The air was too still. Thick. Like the room was holding its breath. His chest buzzed again—that low static he was starting to associate with the dark spot pulsing in his chest.

The closet was cramped and dim, its shelves lined with cleaning supplies, stacks of paper towels, and jugs of that powdery pink soap that smelled like marzipan. In the center of the closet sat a yellow mop bucket. The water inside glowed with an otherworldly light, ripples spreading across its surface as though something unseen had disturbed it.

Julian stepped closer, his breath hitching. The whispers grew louder, overlapping until they became a frantic cacophony. The water churned, frothing and splashing over the rim as if in a storm. Julian’s heart pounded, his instincts screaming at him to run, but his feet remained rooted to the spot.

A deep, guttural growl rumbled from the depths of the bucket, vibrating through Julian’s chest.

Golden eyes appeared in the reflection, glowing with an intensity that made his skin crawl.

“Julian…”

The whisper curled out of the shadows.

Soft. Crooked.

And familiar.

“Julian.”

A hand clamped down on his shoulder.

Julian yelped, spinning around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.

“Whoa! It’s me! It’s just me!” Yadriel’s wide eyes were a mix of shock and concern.

“Jesus, Yads!” Julian’s chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. He glanced back at the mop bucket, but the glow was gone. The water was still, murky, and unremarkable.

“What—what the hell was that?” Julian demanded, his voice shaky.